Motivation to be happier and to live better.

Author: Erin

Now listen, kids. Food in my house is a big deal. I like to eat. My husband likes to eat. Unfortunately, he and our spawn both love to eat a bit more healthily than I do – therefore, any condiment that enables me to enjoy health food more easily is a boon.

And let me tell you, I can eat gobs of kale with this dressing. Heaps. Loads. Seriously, I have never eaten so much kale in my life. I can now buy one of those trendy kale t-shirts to let everyone know how trendy my food-life is.

I was excited about my kale salad for lunch today. Who am I?

I’m sure it would be just as delicious on spinach or other leafy greens, not to mention chicken, pork…I could go on. It is yum.

I found the original recipe at Mountain Mama Cooks – you should go to there and make things. I’ve made her Kale Caesar Salad several times before, but last night I made a slight change in the dressing in order to decrease the fat and calories a bit more. My new version uses 1/4 cup greek yogurt + 1/4 cup mayo rather than 1/2 cup mayo. This saves 400 calories and 22g of fat, man! Didn’t notice the difference at all. Still delicious.

Blend everything together – adding water last and until desired thickness. Eat it with stuff.

This recipe makes a little over a cup of dressing. When considering the serving size of Hidden Valley ranch dressing, which is approximately 1 oz – this yields 8 servings with 111 calories and just under 12g of fat. Not to mention it is homemade and makes kale appetizing…

The chickpeas in her Kale Caesar Salad recipe are also delicious and another favorite in our house. When low on time, I like to saute them in a pan with some olive oil and a sprinkle of ranch seasoning. Throw on your salad, serve with some rotisserie chicken, and you have a quick weeknight dinner.

So this is it. What I’ve been up to during these months of silence. I’ve just been shoving my face with kale and waiting for inspiration to hit… Who knew it was in my teeth?

Oh, heeeeeey. It’s a been a while… How’s things? Good, good. Sorry I’ve neglected you forlikemonths, blog. But there’s been things – let’s call them schmeadaches – that have been preeeeeetty much sucking my writing inspiration right from my soul. But – guess what? At the risk of totally jinxing myself, I’ve only had two in the last 50 days!

SO – get ready and let’s get right to The Reason that most of you read this for. BABY UPDATES YAAAAAY! (I’m mean, let’s be real…)

We had a dermatologist appointment on Tuesday and got some excellent news! We have been working on weaning her off of the Propranolol for a few months now and so far her hemangioma has been maintaining its size. So now we are starting her at a dose that we can give her ONCE a day, first thing in the morning.

The doctor says that she thinks there is about a 50/50 chance that the hemangioma may become active again, so we need to watch closely for any regrowth. But for now, we can continue the plan to have her off of the medicine by her second birthday. Aaaaaaand we can say bye bye to her bedtime bottle. Yippee! No more waking up a sleeping baby – which is terrible. TERRIBLE.

This also means that we can jump full board on the potty training…er…train. Baby Girl already does a darn good job at going to the potty already and now that there is no milk poured down her throat at 10 p.m. every night, she will be able to wake up dry. Onward we go to Commitment Town! And wait until you see the adorable cloth training pants I picked up today. I bought two different kinds to try and will let you know in a future post how they work out. Wish us luck!

As for me – I’ve had my own set of adventures. I began going to the neurologist in May for chronic migraines that I’ve always had but that have worsened after pregnancy. I’ve since had several MRI scans, nerve tests, etc. and really all they could come up with was that I was having muscle spasms.

Ha.

Apparently my body is tense. Ha. I have no idea why? I mean – lugging around over 20 extra wiggly pounds on my hip isn’t THAT big of a deal. Neither is waking up at 3:30 in the morning just because someone small and cute wants an hour long snuggle. Nor is standing on my feet and working with my hands for pretty much the last ten years. (Note to self: Be kinder to body.)

Anyways.

Suggestion was to attend physical therapy. Considering I would be paying for that out of pocket and they wanted me to go twice a week, I was not really considering it as an option. I also view it as an overblown solution for something that might be handled more cheaply by exercises on my own. I have not been in an accident or had a stroke or anything – my body just has the unfortunate fate of belonging to an event florist.

Luckily, something magical happened and I didn’t have to think on physical therapy too long…

In the spirit of meeting our deductible, I also have been working on getting some leg issues looked at. My grandmother had blood clots and bad legs, so I mainly went into a vein clinic as a preventative measure. I have varicose veins, I stand all the time, I have a history…surely I would need to do something to prevent future problems. Surprise surprise, they did an ultrasound and decided my legs were already bad enough to need surgery. Yay for being a 30 year old with the spidery ankles of a 60-something…

I had venous ablation done on four veins in both of my legs and I cannot BELIEVE I have been living with the pain I have been living with for so long. Hey you – person – does your body hurt? Maybe you should stop trying to be tough because it might be telling you something. Because now my legs feel awesome. My feet don’t hurt. I have ANKLES. Apparently the sore legs I’ve had for years were for a reason other than just ‘I-stood-all-day’ and pregnancy aggravated the problem. AND as a crazy side effect – I have only had two fairly minor migraines since having the procedures.

(Sidenote: I had brought this up as a possible cause to one of the doctors I spoke to and he basically called me an idiot. I might be paraphrasing…maybe.)

Regardless, I feel better due to an unrelated treatment and the neurology people still have all my money but whatever. I don’t have a headache right now so I don’t really care!

In other news, I’m planning on returning back to work this fall if they will have me and if I can find suitable (read: affordable) daycare. I am simultaneously terrified and ecstatic. I am ready to buy Baby Girl a backpack and plan little bento lunches for myself. It is time. I’m also working on starting some home business projects that I can work on at the same time…because I desire everything on ModCloth and I must have it.

I’ve been searching for something to write about for Mother’s Day. Something profound. Something to truly express the weight and magic of being a mom; something to extend my appreciation to all kinds of mothers everywhere.

Because this shit is hard, yo.

But it is a pretty big subject…and I’ve got nothing profound, or weighty, or magical to convey to you. However, I have learned something this week. Yes, I’m going to share it with you. If I didn’t, this post would be very short.

Anyways, as we all know – I am an impatient person. I can sometimes be a little high-strung. Tightly wound. Snappy.

You get the picture.

These adjectives and the bedtime of an eighteen month old do not go well together. My Baby Girl loves and thrives upon routine. This is probably because her father and I are the same way. Every night we begin our bedtime ritual at 7:00 and end it around 7:30 – often with her happily rolling over in bed and going to sleep like the dream of a baby that she is.

But lately – because TEETH – she has been pushing her bedtime limits. She does not want to go to bed, or be put down, or even put in her pajamas… And the longer the bedtime fight goes, the more agitated I have found myself becoming.

Because a shift in her routine means a shift in my routine and therefore CHAOS AND PANIC.

“I have to put diapers in the wash. And make lunch for tomorrow. And finish cleaning the kitchen. And taking a shower today would be nice… Is Game of Thrones on? PLEASE WHY ISN’T THIS BABY SLEEPING?!”

I get grumpy and that keyword impatient as 7:30 morphs into 8:00 turns into 9:30…

But tonight was different – and she went right to sleep, snuggled in happily next to her Hedgehog and Blankie. (We are BRILLIANT at lovey names, btw. O-rig-in-al.)

So what was different?

Tomorrow is Saturday. It is Mother’s Day weekend and just my second as not-a-florist. I am looking forward to a nap and a day sans cooking anything. The husband is off playing softball and there is nothing to be done tonight but toss some diapers in the wash and enjoy some Mommy alone time – a true rarity that is usually just me sitting on the couch with a mug of something in a daze.

I was calm.

When I was changing her into her pajamas tonight, we were both smiling. When she kicked her legs at her pajamas, I tickled her feet until she finally agreed to let me wriggle them onto her. Silly faces caused her to erupt into wild drowsy giggles, ending with a contended sigh. And when I turned out the light, there was no crying or clinging. She smiled and leaned towards her crib – happy.

Epiphany.

If I can’t unwind – why should I expect her to unwind? If I am unhappy at bedtime – why should she be happy?

I have only been a mother for eighteen months. I will not pretend to know anything about parenting. Sure, I know my way around a cloth diaper – but a baby brain? It’s crazy in there. But here is my advice to all the mothers out there for Mother’s Day.

Be happy. I know that sometimes it can be hard after a long day – or if there is a long day looming in your future. Some of us aren’t even predisposed towards such a heavy word as ‘happy.’ Still…just for bedtime…do your best to tuck your babies in with giggles in their tummies and smiles on their faces.

So, the problem with knowing talented people is that they will do cool things while you stay at home and wipe cottage cheese off the floor… The floral studio that I used to work for has been doing incredible work lately. I stalk their Facebook page with jealous eyes – while knowing my friends who still work there would give their eyeteeth to have a day off.

Hanging floral nests, people. NESTS. I can’t imagine how terrible they were to make.

Oh, wait. Yes, I can. But I’m still jelly… So cool.

Instead of making fancy things like hanging floral nests (like what?!) – I made chicken salad. WARM chicken salad, mind you… For some reason my husband doesn’t believe something is a meal unless it is served warm. It’s based off of a recipe that my mother fixed for us at one point, but that I have twisted to our tastebuds.

For example: no celery allowed. Ew.

That is actually the most amazing thing about this recipe. It is very easily modified – hence the title: “Not Rocket Science Chicken Salad.” Essentially, you mix up your favorite things; pop it into the oven to get toasty; and shove it into your face hole.

P.S. I didn’t take photos of every step. Sometimes the baby and the husband sitting at the table with pounding forks are far too distracting… Please forgive my terrible food photography. Someday I will learn it. Kthxbai.

P.P.S. I love to use up leftover rotisserie chicken in this. O Yus. Those magical little birds are so delicious and usually last us two meals as long as B isn’t HulkHungry (which happens, don’t get me wrong…) Please feel free to cook up fresh chicken for this recipe, but there is something SO satisfying about using up leftovers, isn’t there? This will feed 2-4 (depending on the appetite,) but again – it is easily adjusted to feed larger groups by simply upping everything.

Now, this is going to get tricky. Mix your first seven ingredients together. Mix it real good.

Next, spread into a casserole dish.

Tear up your delicious Italian loaf into bite-sized bits. Drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle with salt and pepper, and give it a good toss. Top the chicken mixture liberally with the bread. Eat the remainder of the loaf with reckless abandon.

Pop it all into the oven and cook until the bread is toasty and the edges are bubbly – approximately fifteen minutes.

I lied. It’s not tricky at all. Yes – it was just that easy. Sometimes an easy dinner is just what we need.

Possible additions/substitutions/options/MADNESS!:

trade the ranch and cheddar for buffalo sauce and blue cheese (mmm…)

exchange the onion, cheddar and ranch for tomato, parmesan, spinach and Italian seasoning

how about some mushrooms, swiss and bacon bits?

pop rocks, marshmallows, and Swedish fish (ok, not really… but are you paying attention?)

It’s just like the 90’s here on my blog, rainbow child – the possibilities are endless. Since you are working with cooked chicken, you can easily taste test as you mix. If it tastes good cold, then guess what? It will probably taste even better when warm and topped with toasty bread.

So, while my friends and peers travel the world, create relevant art, own businesses, change lives, earn more degrees, evoke social change, feature in major publications…I made dinner. It wasn’t rocket science. But it was delicious, damn it…

She seems to think I should devote most of my time to her. Feeding her, changing her, playing with her, digging crayons out of her teeth… She’s so needy. Psh.

Second of all: I’ve been fighting with migraines quite a bit lately.

If you’ve known me really any time at all, I have probably flaked out on you because of a headache. Maybe I even missed your birthday party…and I’m talking, like, tenth birthday – because I’ve had headaches for pretty much as long as I can remember. I left a lot of slumber parties early, missed several field trips and skipped out of many morning classes. They’ve been a constant part of my life and something that I’ve always just taken for granted.

I am susceptible to debilitating headaches that often affect my ability to function normally. Isn’t everyone?

Fortunately, for most of my twenties I pretty much had my headaches under control. With the right combination of preventative medication and lifestyle choices, I only suffered from a few severe migraines a year – and those I was able to treat with an abortive medication, Imitrex, which is pretty much one of my favorite things ever. Considering when I was younger I would sometimes get at least one a week and would simply have to wait out the pain by using meditation, ibuprofen and cold packs – things weren’t too bad. I was able to go to work regularly. I could go to parties and make plans without worrying whether or not I would get a headache. And despite mild anxiety about getting a migraine on my wedding day, I made it through without a single twinge.

Then I had a baby. Funny how those cute little monkeys change everything about our bodies, isn’t it?

While we were trying to get pregnant, while I was pregnant, and for a few months after, I had to go off of all of my preventative migraine medication. Cold turkey. None of it. Not even my beloved Imitrex.

I was terrified.

I had been on one of my medications for nearly twenty years. Even the thought of taking it away gave me the shakes! But somehow, even while giving me horrible heartburn, hip pain from hell, and swollen ankles – pregnancy also took away my migraines. It was amazing. It wasn’t until BG was about four months old that the familiar pain that I used to know so well snuck its way back into my brain.

Is it weird to say that I missed it? It is weird. I know. I don’t think I really missed my migraines. Because they suck. Ooooh, do they suck. But they have been a part of me for so long that when I felt one again, it was like seeing an old friend. Or a frenemy in this case, I guess…

Anyways.

I went back on my meds pretty quickly. At first things seemed to go well, but then I started getting headaches more frequently. Once a week. Then sometimes more than once a week… Then, out of the blue, a new symptom decided to join the party and I lost my vision for about two hours.

Scary shit, dude. Let me tell you.

I was home with the Baby Girl, going about our normal day when I noticed dark spots in my field of sight. They continued to get worse and worse until I couldn’t focus or see anything in front of me. I dumped the kid into a disposable, made sure she had a sippy cup, and closed us up in her bedroom while I called my husband to come home and make an emergency eye doctor appointment.

I was panicking. I was certain that I had a tumor or that I was losing my sight for good or that I was having an aneurysm or something horrible… (It was probably a good thing I couldn’t Google to see that my symptoms were obviously death.)

But nope. None of the above. Just a damn migraine. By the time we got the doctor, I was starting to experience migraine symptoms and my vision was beginning to return. Apparently I had just experienced my first Ocular migraine.

W. T. F. Amirite?

Since then, I have had one other ocular migraine and many other regular migraines. My G.P. upped the dose of one of my preventives, despite the fact that the last time I was on a higher dose of it I went a little off the deep end… We decided to try it just for a little while to see if it would help. But, as anticipated, it has started messing with me. I knew this would happen when she prescribed it, but hoped against hope that maybe this time it would work and I would feel awesome. Maybe I’d even get that cool side effect of ‘weight loss.’

Ha. Hahahaha. Haha.

Instead I’m back riding in the depression boat, this time with memory loss to boot. I keep forgetting key parts of my daily routine and it is really making me feel like a horrible mother and wife. Which really helps keep my depression boat afloat, let me tell you…

So, I’ve finally scheduled an appointment with a neurologist. We will see what they find. I don’t have high hopes considering I’ve lived with the threat of migraine pain for over twenty years. But maybe. Just maybe this will be the magic moment I finally kiss one of my longest known frenemies good-bye.

I can now claim experience in cloth diapering for nearly a year and a half. Which doesn’t really seem like a great amount of time – but when you consider that I have probably changed a pretty large percentage of BG’s dirty pants, it adds up to several thousand diaper changes.

Don’t fault me for lingering over my coffee when Grandma comes to visit, hoping she realizes the kiddo is wet before I do… Because I do. Oh, how I do.

While I’m no expert, I have accrued my own stash of tips that I am more than eager to share with my friends who are starting the cloth diaper adventure. So! Here they are.

My Ten Diaper Tips.

I swear I tried to find a clever alliteration for you… But my thesaurus delivered up no witty alternative for Tips and while Dirty Dozen was tempting – I simply had to stop at ten…

I must live with this failure.

1. Pick a style and stick with it. It can be overwhelming when delving into cloth. There really is no need to get crazy. Find what you like, learn how to use it, and then stick with it. Buy larger sizes of the same thing when necessary or cute prints when you feel like it. The crazier you get with styles and types causes confusion when it comes time for laundry. Plus, keeping it simple makes it easier to recruit folding help…

2. When dealing with pocket diapers, or all-in-ones with removable liners, do remove your inserts before rinsing poo in the toilet. Unless your kiddo has diarrhea or is still having runny newborn poo*, all of what you need to rinse is on the surface of the inner liner. By removing the insert, you don’t absorb water that you don’t need and create unnecessary mess.

3. Get your hands dirty. Just do it. You can always wash your hands after. You will save time and frustration by just diving in and getting it over with rather than trying to avoid the ‘icky’ stuff. Welcome to parenthood – I’ve learned that the icky stuff is unavoidable.

4. Set your washer rinse settings before you load the wash with dirty diapers. That way, once you’ve loaded the washer with your icky pants and – if you’ve followed Tip #2 – have dirty hands, all you have to do is hit a button with an elbow or forehead and you’re good to go wash up! It took me a long time to figure this out. A lot longer than I care to admit…

5. Disassemble diaper parts before washing. I realize that some say that you don’t have to remove inserts in order to wash them and that they will shake apart in the wash. From my own experience, I recommend taking the extra minute to pull them all apart and throw them in as simply as possible. The easier it is for the water to get to all of the crooks and crevices, the better.

6. Change cloth diapers frequently. Cloth diapers are not like disposables – that’s why we like them, right? But, by the same token, they will not hold twelve hours worth of pee. You will have to change them more often. Otherwise, you might end up with a wet lap. I am in the habit of changing BG’s pants every two hours whether she seems to need it or not. I do notice on days when I’m feeling ill, particularly tired, or let’s just call it lazy, that we end up with leaks. This is my fault for not changing soon enough – not the diaper’s.

7. Use extra inserts at night and during naptime. Your baby may or may not need them. Then again, it could also gain the both of you an extra hour or two of sleep.

8. This one is for the partners. How about let’s call them the “Secondary Diaper Changers.” You know who you are. Let me give you a special bit of advice, based on a special bit of experience… Go ahead and change that poopy diaper instead of pretending that you don’t notice the smell. Maybe even rinse it out instead of leaving it for the “Primary Diaper Changer” to deal with. Trust me. It doesn’t take much to get an appreciate smile (or more) sometimes.

9. Use disposables for car rides, traveling, and trips. I had a hard time with this at first but finally wrangled my Mom Guilt into accepting it. My favorite brand is the Honest Company. I will admit that I tried them mostly because they are adorable – but they are also eco-friendly, sustainable and chlorine free. Slightly more pricey than other brands, but not considerably so especially since we only buy them on occasion.

10. Have a range of pants sizes. Unfortunately, they simply don’t cut cute little baby clothes for cloth diaper butts anymore – and your baby is going to have a badonk, no matter how tiny they may be. BG wears a size larger with her cloth diapers than she does when she wears a disposable. We even have some 3T hand-me-down leggings that we wear around the house that stay up just fine! It has been kind of nice, however, in that we can actually get some good use out of pants instead of wearing them for two minutes and then growing out of them. We start them big and end them small!

*I never thought I would be using the word “poo” so often in a blog. Poo. I am a twelve year old.

So, I had been working on a new recipe post. Also, some diaper tips. But today I read an article that really chapped my ass. It is now all I can think about. It started with the words “Alright, calm down. Before you get angry…,” which should have been an indicator to stop reading – but I’m a glutton for punishment, so of course I didn’t.

I found the post because a friend that I really enjoy and generally tend to agree with had liked it on Facebook. Damn you Facebook, cause of all annoyance in the universe. Anyways, here it is…loathe as I am to repost it.

Now, all in all I’m not really fuzzed up about the idea of what she is trying to say. I don’t think of what I’m doing as a job. Hard work at times, yes. A job, no. But the tone of the article is just incredibly demeaning and immature. It insinuates that all stay at home mothers should greet the sun with a smile every morning, because they are blessed above all others and for them to ever complain is an insult to working mothers everywhere.

Ok, I maybe paraphrased a little. But not really.

“Getting to do nothing but raise a person you opted to bring into the world is a privilege, and calling it anything else is ignorant and condescending.”

Yes. Staying at home with my daughter is a privilege. But it isn’t a privilege that I dreamed about since I was ten or that I even always enjoy. I love my girl. I loved watching her eat a bowl of cereal all by herself for breakfast this morning. But you know what? I also would have liked to make some floral arrangements today. That would have been fun, too. And more fun than washing out two poopy diapers, to be perfectly honest. Probably more fun than dealing with a cranky toddler who needs a nap and has a stuffy nose but won’t let me help clean out the boogers.

Going to the bathroom by myself would also be nice.

But, I’d better not complain. Because that would make me a “whiner” like all the rest of those stay at home martyrs out there. Because essentially, this article tells stay at home mothers to sit down and shut the fuck up – we made the choice to stay at home with our children, so we don’t get to complain about our choice – which I find to be incredibly unfair.

When my husband comes home from a hard day at work and tells me about the four hundred emails he received, or about the irate employee he had to fire, or about an entire computer network shut down – do I tell him that he made the choice to take that job so he should just live with it?

No. I love my husband and I would like for him to still love me. So I’m not a bitch.
(Rule #1 of a Happy Marriage: Don’t be a bitch to your husband.)

I also don’t demand that working mothers keep their complaints to themselves. I have worked occasionally since BG was born. It gave me a glimpse into the life of a working mom and I could see that it would be difficult. Working mothers have it rough, absolutely.

But do I say: “Gee, you made the choice to have kids and to work. Probably should just suck it up.” No. Because that would just be rude, impolite and unsympathetic. (Three words that the writer of the article really knows well, I believe…) I listen to their woes, nod my head and hand them a glass of wine.

“Sure, parenting is hard work, but so is going camping or throwing a party for a friend or having sex with someone I love; I don’t go around calling those things my “jobs.””

WHAT?

Yes. Every time I attempt to use the restroom and look down at the toddler between my feet, attempting to reach between my legs with a wad of toilet paper as she tries to help in a weirdly sweet kind of way…I think: “Gee. This is just like having sex with someone I love. Or camping.”

“Statistically, it’s unbelievable that I was able to afford being a SAHM at all. I found out I was pregnant three months into a relationship with a guy I’d met our senior year of college…

…Never mind that I was still living with my parents after moving back in with them during a mental breakdown my sophomore year at an out-of-state university four years prior. Never mind that I was only employed 15-ish hours per week and was due to graduate a few weeks later with a BA in English. Nope! We were havin’ a baby!”

Yeah, well guess what, lady… We waited until we were in our thirties, had two decent jobs and owned a house before we procreated. That wasn’t a ‘privilege.’ That was hard work and a lot of birth control – not to mention self control, considering we started dating when we were seventeen and eighteen.

No, Stay-at-Home-Mothers, choosing to create your own little person upon whom you’ll spend all your time and energy is a hobby. It is a time-consuming, sanity-deteriorating, life-altering hobby — a lot like a heroin addiction, but with more Thirty-One bags.

Yes. A hobby. Like heroin and Thirty-One bags. I think this every day. WTF. I don’t even know how to respond to that one.

Ok. I get that she is sick of stay at home mothers’ complaining. But we are only human. And you know what humans are good at? Bitching. Her article certainly proves that. I loved my job. I also loved to bitch about it. Even people out there working their dream jobs are entitled to complain about them every once in a while. People get to complain about food, restaurants, the temperature of their coffee, politicians…so you know what? I get to complain about how I get lonely staying at home.

I get sick of following the same routine every day; not being able to leave the house in the afternoon because BG needs her nap. I get annoyed that I have to sneak housework and my writing in while BG naps because I need to watch her every second, because she will climb and eat anything in sight. There are always diapers to wash, my house is never clean, and I am rarely showered. You know all that bullshit about introverts needing alone time to recharge? My introvert battery is always on low – because I am never alone. It’s my new life and that’s fine! I know little by little I will regain myself again. But I do need to let off steam every once in a while otherwise I might explode.

And that’s just bad for everyone.

Did I choose this “lifestyle.” Yes. But that doesn’t mean that I have to pretend to be happy 24/7. Sometimes I am and sometimes I’m not. Stay at home mothers are just like everyone else and it’s ridiculous to expect us to be anything else.